


The B-Team

by orphan_account



Category: Bleach
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a group of terrorists with a bent on the Kurosaki family, and Ichigo can't do much about it. Enter the B-Team, your average group of knuckleheads wielding guns to save the day - and to potentially take your virginity. AU, eventual Renji/Ichigo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurosaki Ichigo was a relatively normal guy.

He had his own little group of friends that he hung out with on a regular basis, most of whom he'd met in high school. He had a nice job working as a highly sought after personal trainer at the local gym. It allowed him to rent out a fairly nice apartment, even though he was only twenty-three. And he had a nice family, though he wouldn't have minded if his batshit crazy father could lay off the pranks every now and then.

All in all, he was a  _very_  normal guy, who didn't get into abnormal situations.

And so his current situation left him in a curious predicament.

One of his best friends, Kuchiki Rukia, was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips. She had that expression on her face that told him if he didn't agree to her request, she would probably hit him. Hard. Potentially between the legs.

But it was just so  _odd_.

He'd known Rukia since college, when they'd been stuck together in the same freshmen orientation group. They'd easily befriended each other, mutually mocking the other losers in their group. Then they'd had several general education classes together, and everything had just gone from there.

But since when had she had a  _brother_? You'd think it would've come up in the many conversations they'd had, but no! She suddenly dropped the bomb that she had a brother – and a filthy, fucking rich brother at that – and that he wanted to meet Ichigo.

Um, what?

"Why the hell does your brother want to meet me?" Ichigo demanded, staring down at his short friend.

"I told you already!" Rukia snapped. "He has a business proposition for you!"

"And what does he do?" Ichigo asked.

"I… I can't tell you that!" Rukia said. "You just have to agree to come with me and talk to him!"

"What the hell am I gonna do for him?" Ichigo persisted. "Act as his personal trainer or something? Just tell him to come to my gym!"

Rukia snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "As if," she said derisively. "My brother does  _not_  need your help in exercising. He's in great physical condition."

"Then I really don't get why he needs to see me," Ichigo said. He crossed his own arms over his chest. "No. I'm not going."

"Ichigo!"

He turned around from where he had started to walk away. "What?!" he snapped. "I do have things to do today, you know!"

"Please," she said shortly. "My brother really needs to talk to you."

He snorted. "You didn't even feel like telling you had a fucking brother until just a few minutes ago," he pointed out. "And now you want me to just waltz into his house and strike up a meaningful  _conversation_  with him?"

"Of course not!" Rukia snapped. She paused. "You'll go to his office. There's no need for you to go to his house, the security's too high."

"He has security?!"

"Of course!"

"Geez, Rukia, couldn't you have mentioned this at, oh, I don't know, ANY point in our friendship?!"

"Are you seriously upset about the fact that I didn't tell you?" she demanded. "Well, news flash, Ichigo, there's LOTS of stuff I don't tell you!"

"Well, there's not a whole lot I don't tell you! I just expected you to return the favor!"

"It's different," she said, sighing. "You don't have any secrets!"

"I know, that's my whole fucking point!"

"Okay, okay, okay, this is getting us nowhere!" Rukia snapped. She paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Will you go with me to meet my brother? He has something important that he wants to talk to you about."

"And I'm going to tell you one more time," Ichigo retorted. "I don't appreciate you keeping secrets from me – and don't you dare fucking say you keep lots of stuff from me! There's a difference between little shit and big shit, and this is  _really big fucking shit_!"

He shook his head angrily and walked away before he could say something really stupid to his friend.

To be honest, he wasn't truly angry with Rukia. That wasn't the right word for it. But he had been so… hurt, he guessed, that she had kept something so monumental from him. He'd told her all about his mother's death, his little sisters, his weird father… and she'd given him some sob story about how she was an orphan and had lived in orphanages her whole life. Bull fucking shit!

But he wasn't good at dealing with emotional betrayal. He'd always known that, and it didn't help when his friend Keigo – who'd become a psychology major in order to attempt to woo women by claiming to "understand" their problems – spouted off theories about why Ichigo was the way he was. Apparently, he exhibited lots of "defense mechanisms" and refused to make himself vulnerable, denying his "need for affiliation".

Whatever. It was just habit. No need to put some fancy psychological label on it.

* * *

"Did you tell him that it was very important that I speak to him as soon as possible?"

Rukia cringed, hearing the disappointment in her brother's voice. "Of course!" she said. "I tried everything I could think of! But he's too mad at me for not telling him that I even had a brother."

"Hmm."

She paused, waiting for her brother to reply. When he didn't, she bit her lower lip nervously and plowed ahead. "Brother? What are we going to do? He's going back to his house for dinner tonight. He's walking right into a trap!"

"Rukia," Kuchiki Byakuya said calmly. "Do you think that I have not made all of the necessary preparations for that scenario?"

She flushed at the reprimand. "Of course not," she said quietly. "You always think of everything."

"Indeed. You will go to Kurosaki's apartment and wait. I took the liberty of getting a spare key and hiding it under his doormat. You should find it easily enough. Meanwhile, I have sent a group to Kurosaki's house to manage the situation there."

"Great!" Rukia breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that her friend and his family wouldn't be harmed. "What should I do while I'm waiting?"

"Think of ways to convince him to come back to the facility with you," Byakuya continued. "You may need to use some… persuasion."

Rukia blinked, and then burst out laughing. "Um, no offense, Brother, but Ichigo  _really_  doesn't swing that way," she replied. "So I don't know how  _persuasive_  I can be."

"… is that so?"

"Well, he's never come right out and told me, but he definitely puts out a vibe," she said, still giggling at the thought of her trying to use her feminine charms on Ichigo. What a waste.

"I see. Then appeal to his emotions. I believe that has worked in the past?"

"You could say that." You sure as hell couldn't try logic with Ichigo. The guy was definitely intelligent, but logical? Hell no.

"Whatever it takes, you must get him here. There is not an option here."

"I understand."

"Good." With that, he hung up.

Rukia pocketed her phone and dashed for her car. She had plenty of time to get to Ichigo's apartment – it wasn't far from here – but she needed the extra minutes to come up with a plan to convince Ichigo to come with her. He was already mad at her, and he was stubborn as a mule.

This was not going to be an easy conversation.

* * *

Ichigo still had his hands angrily shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he came up to his house, several miles away from where he'd fought with Rukia. He had a car, but he preferred to walk within a certain radius. It gave him more time to think. And cool off from arguments from stupid secret keepers.

He huffed as he unlocked the door and made his way inside, leaving his sneakers by the door. It wasn't really a huge deal – he'd get over it soon enough, and sure, he'd go meet Rukia's brother. But really – who the fuck kept a secret like that?

"Ichigo!"

He looked up to see one of his younger sisters, Yuzu, standing in the entryway to the kitchen, a huge smile on her face. She had a spoon in one hand and a cooking mitt in the other, little bits of flour on her face. "Hey, Yuzu," he said easily, all traces of his anger gone at the radiant expression on her face.

"You're early!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting you for another half an hour or so." Turning around, she ran back to the kitchen to keep an eye on dinner.

These family dinners once a week had been her stipulation when he'd moved out. He'd easily agreed; for one thing, he hated seeing Yuzu cry, even over something as stupid as him moving out, which was inevitable. For another, she made really fucking good food. He was an average cook, but she'd spent practically her entire memorable life cooking for the family. She way outclassed him.

"Yeah," he said noncommittally.

She gave him a curious stare. "Did you get into a fight with Rukia?" she guessed.

He snorted. "Can't hide anything from you, can I," he said, not really intoning it as a question. "Yeah, something like that."

"You should apologize to her." Ichigo looked up to see Yuzu's twin, Karin, standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She was frowning at him.

"Aren't you even gonna ask what it was about before you decide it's  _me_ who needs to apologize?" Ichigo demanded.

"No," Karin said flatly. "It's Rukia. You're wrong, she's right." She walked into the kitchen and peered into the pot of whatever Yuzu was making. "That's how it works."

"Gee, thanks for the support," he said darkly.

"Anytime," Karin said. She stuck a finger in the sauce to taste test it.

"Karin!" Yuzu said, slapping her twin's finger away. "It isn't done yet!"

"So?" Karin asked. "I'm hungry!"

"Oh, it's almost ready," Yuzu said. "Where's Dad?"

"Dunno," Karin said. "Don't care."

Ichigo had to agree with that. As much as he loved his father, the guy was a few cards shy of a full set. His whole family was like that, honestly; his aunt Kukaku had a habit of punching people who disagreed with her, and his uncle Ganju was an absolute fucking dumbass, especially when he bragged about his hog wrestling business.

Thankfully, it seemed the crazy genes had skipped a generation.

"What is this?!"

Well. There he was.

"Karin! You don't care where Daddy is?!" Kurosaki Isshin burst into the room with a howl, tearing at his sideburns. "I am so mistreated by my dearest daughter!"

"You never go anywhere exciting, so why would I care where you are?" Karin asked, not even turning to look at him.

"You wound me!" He turned then, and saw Ichigo sitting at the kitchen table. "Ichigo! My darling son – you have returned to me!" He rushed forward to glomp onto Ichigo.

Fat chance of that happening.

Ichigo elbowed his father out of the way at the same time that he jumped out of his chair. He stepped back as his father somehow managed to fall onto the seat of the chair, face first.

"Oomph!" Isshin was momentarily silenced as the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

"Nice to see you too, Pops," Ichigo said, going around to sit on the other side of the table.

Isshin pushed himself up and into the chair. "My children are all so heartless," he said sadly. He looked at the clock on the wall, and then back at Ichigo. "You're here early, son! Couldn't stay away from Daddy, could you?"

"Yeah," Ichigo rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm here."

"Not that I am not overjoyed by your presence, my son, but… why are you early?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Ichigo replied.

"He got into a fight with Rukia," Karin supplied easily, coming to sit beside her brother, who shot a glare at her. She pointedly ignored it.

"Ichigo!" Isshin said, clearly disapproving. "You call her right now and apologize!"

"Why do I have to apologize?" Ichigo demanded, his earlier anger quickly coming back. Why was he suddenly the bad guy here?! "Why does everyone assume it's me who effed up?!"

"Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo," Isshin said, shaking his head. "You have much to learn, my young son." His eyes flashed. "The woman is always right, Ichigo! It doesn't matter what the situation or the question is. That's just the way it goes!" He snorted. "Your mother taught me that on our second date."

"Yeah, right," Ichigo scoffed. "Besides, I'm not dating her. I don't have to let her win everything."

"She wins anyways," Karin said.

"Can we just fucking let it go?" Ichigo demanded. "Yes, I had a fight with Rukia! No, it's not a big fucking deal!" He glared at his father. "And I am not apologizing because I did  _nothing_  wrong!"

BOOM!

Without thinking, Ichigo hit the floor. "What the hell?!" he cried, looking around. A cloud of smoke was billowing out from the front door. Had someone tried to bomb it?!

Their father had acted immediately, gathering Karin and Yuzu to him. Ichigo copied him, turning the dinner table on its side as a shield.

He heard several pairs of feet move into the kitchen; it sounded like they were wearing heavy boots. Without thinking of the consequences, he jumped up and slammed his fist into the nearest one. He caught the guy by surprise, and he flew backwards into the wall.

Not waiting for the guy to respond, Ichigo slammed into the other guy, wrestling a gun out of his hand. He grunted as the guy punched him hard in the stomach, but he held tight. The guy from before came at him from behind, jabbing him hard in the ribs. He gasped involuntarily as he felt one crack.

With a snarl, he jammed his elbow back into the guy's face. A sickening crunch told him he'd hit gold – or at least, a nose. Meanwhile, the guy in front of him jammed his boot down onto Ichigo's toes.

He yelled in pain, and unconsciously pushed the two of them forwards, knocking the guy into the wall. The plaster cracked, but the guy didn't seem dazed. Instead, he slipped his foot forward around Ichigo's ankle and yanked, hard.

The two of them fell to the floor in a heap, the breath knocked from Ichigo's lungs. He hit his head hard too; his vision was dizzy.

He tried to get his bearings as the guy on top of him latched his hands around Ichigo's neck.  _Shit!_  He thought.  _Gotta get him off me!_

Ichigo reached up for the guy's face, going for the eyes, but the other man had recovered and pinned his arms down. Ichigo looked up to see his nose gushing blood, a loathsome expression on his face.

 _Fuck!_  Ichigo could feel the blood rushing to his face even as the oxygen was kept from his lungs. He tried to move his arms, but the guys had him pinned pretty well.  _Come on… do something here!_

Bang!

Ichigo sucked in oxygen like he never had before, sputtering at the sudden loss of pressure.

"What the fuck?!"

There was another bang, and the guy holding his arms down dropped like a fly.

Ichigo felt a warm liquid seeping onto him, and he looked down. The guy who'd been choking him had had his head blown clean off. "Ah, gross," he muttered, seeing the dead man's blood seeping onto his clothes. He shoved the guy off, looking around for the second. The guy had a gaping bullet hole in the middle of his chest.

What… the literal fuck?!

"Oi, you alright, kid?"

Ichigo looked around to see a person coming out of the cloud of plaster dust. A bald guy stepped forward, a shotgun in his hands. He seemed to have been the one who'd downed the two guys. "Who are you?" he demanded, raising to his feet.

"Name's Ikkaku," the guy said, snapping open his gun and reloading it with two more shells. "And this –" he patted the gun fondly, "- is Hozukimaru. She just saved your life. Arentcha gonna thank her?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Ichigo said absently. Thinking of his family, he ran over to the table. Isshin had the girls within his arms, looking out warily. "Are you guys okay?" he demanded.

Isshin nodded. "We're safe," he replied. He nudged the girls to stand up with him, and the three of them rose to their feet. "But who're they?"

They?

Ichigo turned around. There were now five people standing there with Ikkaku. Two of the guys had dark, almost black hair, though that was about where the similarities ended. One was effeminate, with a shoulder-length bob and what looked like fake eyelashes. The other had a "69" tattooeed on one cheek and three long, vertical scars on the other. Weird. Then there was a tall, busty blond chick and a smaller blonde male with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Who are you guys?" Ichigo asked, taking a step towards them. They were all wearing a similar uniform – dark leather, combat boots, vests made out of bulletproof material, and guns. Lots and lots of guns. "And what the fuck just happened?"

Ikkaku opened his mouth to reply – did that make him the leader then? – when a sixth figure stepped into the room.

"Yo, Ikkaku, front's clear," the guy said. "Only had two men standing guard. Fucking easy – like he wasn't even trying to…" He trailed off when he realized he had an audience. His reddish eyes focused on Ichigo. "Yo – you guys okay over there?"

The newcomer had bright red hair – like fucking crimson, not a normal shade of copper or auburn – tied back in a ponytail, the ends going just past his shoulders. Ichigo could see dark tribal tattoos on his neck and arms where they peeked out of his uniform.

For lack of a better word, Ichigo had to admit the guy looked like a badass.

"Yeah," he said. He winced as he moved, putting a hand to his ribs. "Think I gotta broken rib, but not too bad."

"Good," the redhead said. He turned to Ikkaku. "Like I said, nothing out front."

"The back was clear too," 69 said.

"Aw," the woman pouted. "This was no fun!" She sighed. "I was hoping to at least get to pull my gun out…"

"Rangiku, everyone is alive," the blonde male said, frowning. "You should be happy that this was easy, not upset."

"Yeah, yeah, Kira, we know you're a pacifist," Rangiku replied dismissively.

"Did you establish a perimeter?" Ikkaku asked the redhead.

"Course I did," the redhead replied. "Got a group on backup if something unexpected happens too."

Ichigo stared at the group of people standing in the kitchen. What the fuck was going on here? Had they… had they just been attacked?! Why would anyone want to harm the Kurosaki family? They didn't have any enemies! And who the hell were these guys?! They looked like a group straight out of a top secret government facility.

"Hey!"

The group quieted and turned to stare at Ichigo.

"Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?!" he demanded. "Who are you guys?"

The redhead stepped forwards. "Name's Renji," he replied. "Your family just got attacked by a terrorist organization. Luckily, we –" he motioned to the others – "knew about it, and we got here just in time to save your asses."

"And who the fuck are  _you_?" Ichigo demanded.

Renji grinned at him wolfishly.

"We're the B-Team."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note... I know that Japanese people usually measure height in terms of centimeters, but I hate doing conversions, so in here Renji uses feet and inches. I know, I know. I'm a lazy American. Trust me, I would prefer it if we just switched to metrics like the rest of the world.

 

Ichigo blinked.

The what-now?

“Don’t you mean ‘the A-Team’?” Karin asked, frowning at the newcomers.

“No,” Ikkaku said. “We’re the B-Team.”

“So you’re a bunch of second-rate heroes?” she snorted.

“Hey! We just saved your asses, didn’t we?!”  he demanded.

“You also wrecked our dining room.”

“It was already wrecked!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Ichigo snapped, getting impatient with the inane bickering. He returned his gaze to Renji, who had been the only one to answer his questions. “The B-Team. What the fuck is that?”

“We’re a group of contracted elite operatives.” The man with the 69 tattoo on his face answered him instead. “My name is Hisagi Shuhei, and I’m the leader of B-Team.”

“Are there more of you?”

“Sure.” That came from Renji. “There’s an A-Team, and a C-team, and a D-Team. Not to mention the administrators.”

“So you knew this was going to happen to us,” Isshin stepped forward, surprising Ichigo. His father had been quiet up until then, apparently content that his children were safe from harm. “You were sent here ahead of time.” Ichigo was surprised to note that his father didn’t look very, well, surprised at this whole situation.

If anything, he looked… forlorn?

“Yes,” Shuhei said, with a terse nod. “We had a tip from one of our inside agents.” The blonde flinched at that last sentence.

“You guys are lucky,” Renji said. “We don’t always get to locations on time.”

Ichigo scowled. “Is that supposed to give us some kind of confidence in you?” he demanded. “Because it really fucking doesn’t!”

“Oi,” Renji growled at him, “We just saved your fuckin’ life. Show a little gratitude, will you?”

“I had it under control!” Ichigo retorted before he could think about it. He cursed internally; there was no way he could defend that. Because lying on your back and getting the living daylights choked out of you was _real_ in control.

Ikkaku snorted. “Yeah, if you call lying on your ass with two guys choking you ‘under control’,” he muttered.

“Boys, boys,” the blonde – Rangiku? – said, stepping forward. Ichigo flushed when he noticed that the zipper holding her enormous breasts in check slipped open with each step that she took. She didn’t even seem to notice! “Enough with the testosterone!” She pointed to Ichigo. “You’re safe. Say thank you!” She smiled at him expectantly.

“Thanks,” he finally said grudgingly, crossing his arms over his chest. He winced when the motion jarred his cracked rib.

“And Ikkaku – Renji,” Rangiku continued, “Be nice!” She smiled apologetically at Ichigo. “You’ll have to forgive them. They’re full of pent-up sexual frustration.”

Ikkaku snorted and slung his gun across his shoulders. “Well, I wouldn’t be if _someone_ wasn’t acting like a priss,” he muttered.

The man with the black bob rolled his eyes. “I am making my point, Ikkaku, not acting like a _priss_ , as you so charmingly put it.”

Ichigo blinked. Were the two guys together then? Huh. Wouldn’t have thought that from first glances. Though now that she’d mentioned it, they did give off a certain vibe. Even though they were apparently fighting, the shorter, dark-haired man had his shoulder turned in to Ikkaku. He looked ready at a moment’s notice to defend the other. Ikkaku was doing the same thing, unconsciously drawing closer to the other.

He didn’t have much longer to ponder it, however, as his phone started vibrating in his pocket.

Scowling – someone _would_ try to fucking call him now – he whipped the device out and held it up to his ear. “What?” he demanded. “I’m kinda busy right now, so make it quick!”

“Ichigo.” It was Rukia; she sounded relieved. “Are you okay? Your family’s not hurt, are they?”

“No, they’re all fine,” Ichigo replied. But wait – how would Rukia know to ask whether or not his family was injured? And why would she sound relieved that he’d answered the phone? “Wait. How do you know what’s going on?”

She sighed. “I… I may have known this was going to happen,” she replied.

“And you couldn’t fucking warn me?” he snapped. “Shit, my family could’ve died!”

“Oh, shut up!” she yelled back at him. “I tried to get you to come with me! I tried to tell you that it was important! But no, you wouldn’t listen to me!” She blew out the breath she’d been holding angrily. “Yes, I knew this was going to happen, and I _tried_ to get you out of the way. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“And what about my family? Getting me to come with you wouldn’t have saved them!”

“They aren’t the target here, Ichigo!”

He paused. Target? What was she talking about?

“Yes, that’s right,” she continued. “Those guys weren’t after your family. They were after _you_. They’ve been following you. They wouldn’t have attacked your house if you’d just listened to me.”

“But then they would’ve attacked your brother’s office, right?” For some reason, Renji snorted at that comment. Ichigo looked up, frowning, only to see an amused expression on the redhead’s face. What was that about?

Rukia chuckled. “Trust me, Ichigo, my brother’s office was the safest place you could have been,” she replied. “That’s why I wanted you to go and talk to him, why _he_ wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ichigo said, shrugging off her reproachful tone. “But why me?”

There was silence on the other end. “I’m not the right person to tell you that, Ichigo,” Rukia said finally. “You need to hear from my brother.”

“Hear what?” he asked. This was getting really fucking annoying – he hated it when people beat around the bush and refused to directly answer questions. It was why his best friends – Rukia and a half-Japanese giant named Chad – were both honest people.

Except Rukia was proving to be a little less blunt than usual.

“Look, come back to your apartment as soon as you can,” Rukia said. “I’m waiting for you there. I’ll take you to my brother then and explain things to you.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to give a quick retort, only to notice that she’d hung up on him. What a bitch!

“Lemme guess.” He looked up at Renji expectantly. “Rukia?”

Ichigo frowned. “How do you know Rukia?” he asked. It was obvious from what she’d implied that she was part of this “organization” Hisagi had mentioned, but Ichigo hadn’t expected her to know all of the people standing before him.

Renji barked out a laugh. “How _don’t_ I know Rukia?” he threw back. He took a step forward, absently kicking one of the dead guys out of the way. “She and I go way back, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Ichigo retorted.

“You’re shorter than me,” Renji remarked with a shrug. “Makes you a kid, don’t it?”

“What kind of logic is that?” Ichigo demanded.

“Sounds pretty damn sound to me,” Renji snapped back.

“Really? _I’m a kid because I’m shorter?_ ”

“Well, we could go with your apparently raging immaturity. Would ya prefer that?”

“I’m not even short!”

“Fuck, you’re what – five eight?” Renji snorted. “I was that tall in middle school!”

“I’m Japanese, dickwad!” Ichigo said. “We’re _all_ fucking short! You’re the one who’s abnormally tall here!”

“Ain’t my fault I’m more developed than you!”

“More like prematurely developed! What are you, some kind of Neanderthal?”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Renji took a step closer to him, his jaw clenched angrily.

“I called you a fucking Cro-Magnon man, dumbass! Can’t you hear, or did all that hair dye melt your brain cells?”

“Hair dye?!” Renji yelled. “You fuckin’ take that back! The carpet matches the drapes, you hear me?!”

“Are you two really fucking arguing about _height_ here?” Hisagi interjected, scowling.

Immediately, Renji backed off. He looked slightly embarrassed, as if he didn’t normally get into shouting matches with people over such stupid shit. “Sorry, Hisagi,” he muttered.

Hisagi shook his head. “We’ve got a job to do here,” he pointed out. “Look, Ichigo – go talk to Rukia. We’ll get everything cleaned up here and make sure your family’s watched for the night.” He turned to Renji. “Dude, come on. You’re twenty-four, he’s twenty-three. Let it go.”

“The kid started it,” Renji muttered, bending down to pick up one of the fallen men by the arms.

“I fucking did not!” Ichigo snapped. He’d about had it with this redhead; forget his earlier assessment. Renji wasn’t a badass – he was just a fucking jackass. “And for the last time, I’m not a fucking kid!”

“Shove off,” Renji snapped, standing up, the body draped across his back. “You’re a fucking _kid_ because we just saved your goddamn life. You’re a fucking _kid_ because you let your stupid pride get in the way of keeping your family safe!” He snorted. “If you’d just _listened_ , we wouldn’t even be in this situation right now! So yeah, you are a fucking _kid,_ and until you prove to me you aren’t one, I’ma keep calling you one.”

Ichigo stared at him for a moment, startled by the sudden tirade. Renji ignored his gaze, instead moving to take the body outside. The rest of the group started moving around, awkwardly avoiding his gaze.

Scowling, Ichigo turned around and left the house.

*

To his surprise, Rukia was actually inside his apartment. Not standing in the lobby, not standing outside his door – but sitting on his couch.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded upon entering.

She held up a key. “Brother had a spare made,” she said easily, closing the fitness magazine she’d picked up off his coffee table. She frowned. “Why are you holding your side like that?”

“Cracked a rib,” Ichigo ground out, dropping down into the chair by the couch. “Hurts when I move.”

“I thought you said you were okay!” she snapped, sounding worried.

“I am!” he retorted. He sighed. “Sorry for snapping. It hurts like a motherfucker. But there’s nothing really I can do. I’ve seen Dad look over enough broken ribs to know that.” He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Can’t really set the bone – just gotta deal with it.”

“You should at least take some Excedrin, or something,” she said.

He pulled a little bottle of the pain medication out of his jacket pocket. “Way ahead of ya,” he replied. He put the bottle back. “So. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”

She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “What do you want to know?”

“Why the hell was my family attacked?” he asked. “I know you said they were targeting me, but… why?”

“It’s… complicated,” Rukia said. “I can’t tell you a lot because I don’t know a lot about the situation.”

“What, you’re not on one of these teams?” Ichigo asked sardonically.

“Of course not,” Rukia said. “Like my brother would ever put me in danger that way.”

“He’s connected to this?”

“You could say that,” she replied.

“Is he on one of the teams?”

“No, my brother works alone. His fighting style would cause too much friendly fire.”

Ichigo snorted. “Whatever,” he said. “You didn’t really answer my question.”

“You distracted me,” she retorted. “Like I was saying, I don’t know a whole lot. My brother can tell you more when you go and meet with him.”

“ _If_ I go and meet with him,” Ichigo corrected her.

She rolled her eyes. “The group we work for is known as the Soul Society,” she continued. “It’s an elite operative group that’s contracted out for use by governments and special interest groups. Occasionally, we get private jobs, but those are our two most common employers. We’re currently on loan to Japan to tackle a terrorist group that’s arisen.”

“You fucking serious?” Ichigo asked. And here he’d been, angry at her for keeping her brother’s existence a secret. Now she was telling him she was working to take down a group of terrorists?

Well, shit. That had escalated quickly.

“Like a heart attack,” she replied quietly.

“And what, there’s different teams of you all?”

“Yes. The A-Team is the strongest, full of our best fighters. You met the B-Team; they’re the second strongest group. C-Team and D-Team work as backup most of the time, but they can hold their own in any fight.”

“So how do you and your brother fit into this?”

“My brother… isn’t on a team, like I said,” Rukia replied slowly; she had a thoughtful look on her face, considering each word before she said it. Ichigo could tell that there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he let it go for now. “He’s one of the few agents who work better alone, and so he deals in solo missions. I’m not on a team either, though I could be if I tried. I’m perfectly well qualified.”

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah right, pipsqueak,” he scoffed. “A twelve year old could beat you in a fight!”

She lobbed one of the collective baseballs he kept on an end table at his head. He moved too slow to duck out of the way and was rewarded with a solid smack to his ear.

“Fuck, Rukia, that hurt, you bitch!”

“Who’s the pipsqueak now?”

“Ah, whatever,” he said, rubbing his ear. Shit, but that stung! His entire ear felt like it was on fire!

“We’re wasting time here,” she said smugly. “We need to leave.”

“Leave?”

“We can’t protect you here,” Rukia said bluntly. “There are too many people. If we try to keep you safe from any more goons that come after you, the rest of your neighbors will notice that something’s going on. They’ll freak out. We need you to – _I_ need you to – come with me to our facility.”

“Facility?”

“We’ve bought out an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Karakura,” she continued. “It’s been transformed into our base of operations, but it still looks like an old, decrepit building. Perfect cover.”

“And I’ll be safe in a old, decrepit building,” Ichigo said flatly.

“You’ll be safe where we can keep an eye on you,” she pointed out.

“Who says I need protecting?” he asked stubbornly.

“Ichigo,” Rukia said, sighing. “You almost died back there, do you know that? Don’t even try to tell me that I wasn’t there; Renji filled me on in the details when you were coming over here. I know you’re strong, and that you can take care of yourself. But you really don’t know what you’re up against here. And you can’t take these guys out on your own. They will literally blow you the hell up.”

She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. If what she was saying about these people being a terrorist organization was true – and it probably was, who the hell would lie about that? – he was way out of his league.

But he wasn’t used to asking for help. He was used to giving it. This was putting him in a very odd situation.

“I guess you’re right,” he said finally.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “So you’ll come with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Guess I need to pack a bag?”

She nodded, and followed him as he stood and went to his bedroom to get some things. “Thank you for agreeing, Ichigo,” Rukia said. “I know you don’t like secrets, but… I promise I didn’t keep anything from you out of spite, or mistrust.”

“I know you didn’t,” he said, grabbing a duffel bag. Opening his chest of drawers, he began pulling out some of his most comfortable – and athletics approved – clothing. “But speaking of not telling me stuff… how the hell do you know this Renji guy?”

“Renji?” she blinked, surprised at his interest.

“Yeah, redheaded jackass with the tattoos,” Ichigo snapped. “He said something about knowing you, and he made it sound like he’d done you a couple times too.”

Rukia laughed. “Ichigo, Renji’s my best _friend_ ,” she said easily. “We grew up together. My brother adopted me into the Kuchiki family when I was sixteen, but before that, we lived the same orphanage. And yes, we tried dating once in high school, but it was pretty obvious it wasn’t going to work.”

“Why not?” he asked absently. He moved into the bathroom, grabbing spares of his sundries. “The guy like dick or something?”

“Well, he’s bisexual, but that’s not what I meant.” Rukia laughed. “It would be like me dating _you_ , Ichigo. You’re like a brother to me. I could never _date_ you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he snorted, sticking his tongue out at her. But it was in a playful sense; he knew exactly what she meant. Rukia was pretty, and he got along with her great, but they both knew that what they had was strictly platonic. They had such different life goals and ways of thinking that it would be a nightmare if they did decide to date.

“You know you love me,” she retorted, leading the way back out into the living room. “What’s with the sudden interest in Renji anyways? Did you guys talk, or something?”

“Nah, not really,” Ichigo replied. “The guy’s a jackass though. Wanted to make sure you weren’t… you know, fucking around with the guy.”

Rukia snorted. “He’s not a jackass,” she said. “He just takes some getting used to. Kind of like you, actually.” She stopped, and appeared to be considering the comparison.

“Yeah, right,” Ichigo scowled. “I’m nothing like him.”

“You don’t even know him,” she pointed out.

“I know enough.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said finally, letting him win this time. “Are you ready to go?” He nodded. “Then let’s get outta here!”

*

Ichigo had to admit that the first thing he thought when he saw Kuchiki Byakuya was that the man was a fine piece of work.

He could recognize beauty when he saw it, and Rukia’s brother was clearly at the top of the gene pool. The guy’s skin was like flawless ivory, complemented by his well-maintained black hair. It was kept out of his face with several expensive looking hair clips; it was an odd look on a man, but if anyone could pull it off, it was this guy. He was well dressed too, in a black suit and gray silk shirt that matched his eyes.

“Kurosaki Ichigo?” he asked. His voice was soft, but deep.

“Yeah,” Ichigo said, standing from the chair he’d sat down in.

“Please, follow me.” The guy turned around and led him back to what appeared to be an office. Inside was a large cherry desk; bookcases framed the walls, and there were several metal filing cabinets on the far wall. Byakuya motioned for Ichigo to sit on of the chairs in front of the desk.

“So you’re Rukia’s brother,” Ichigo said, sitting on the edge of the chair. He was nervous despite himself. Not of this guy, per say; this entire situation was dodgy.

“Yes,” was the stiff reply. “I am Kuchiki Byakuya, Rukia’s older, adopted brother.” He shuffled a few papers on the desk absently. “Do you have any more impertinent questions?”

“Yeah, a lot, actually.” Ichigo purposefully ignored the jibe, smirking.

Byakuya’s gaze was like ice. “You may save them for someone else,” he replied. “My duty here is not to answer your questions.”

“Well, Rukia said that you wanted to talk to me,” Ichigo said. He was confused; if Byakuya wasn’t going to answer his questions, then what was he dying to talk to Ichigo about? He was going to get the answers he wanted; dammit, didn’t he deserve them, after watching his family get attacked?

“I do,” he replied. “You understand why you are here, yes?”

“Rukia said something about protecting me.”

“That is correct,” Byakuya said. “It is too great a risk for you to be out on your own, at this time. You have become the target of a terrorist organization known as the Arrancar. Your family was attacked because of your proximity, but our records indicate that they themselves are not being monitored as you are.”

“I’ve been followed?!”

“Yes, for several weeks now,” Byakuya replied. “Do not tell me you are so obtuse as to have noticed nothing.” Ichigo could swear he saw a hint of a smirk on that unemotional face.

“I’m a busy guy,” Ichigo said defensively. “But I’m not an un-liked guy. I don’t normally have to keep a eye over my shoulder.”

“Indeed. Either way, the Arrancar are watching you, and you have been targeted.”

“Why?”

Byakuya blinked at him rather owlishly. It took him a few moments to respond. “That is classified information,” he said stiffly. “You have not been deemed worthy of knowing such things, for the time being. It may not be safe for you.”

Ichigo snorted. “Fucking figures,” he muttered under his breath.

“Which is also why you will be kept here until we have eliminated this threat.”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute here,” Ichigo said, a red flag going up inside his head.

“We have prepared rooms for you in the barracks,” Byakuya continued, as if he hadn’t heard Ichigo’s interruption. “Clothing and entertainment devices have been made ready for you, so that you will not be bored. There is a gym that you have full access to, as well. I believe you are a personal trainer?”

“Yeah, and because of that, I kinda need to go to my gym to do my job!” Ichigo said hotly. “I can’t just stay here!”

“You must,” Byakuya said, folding his hands together in front of him.

“Okay, so I know you probably stay in this little room all fucking day long, but I have responsibilities out there!” He pointed in the general direction of the way he’d come to get into this building. “I can’t be locked up in here because you guys think it’s too dangerous!”

“We do think it too dangerous, and we _will_ keep you here,” Byakuya said, more firmly this time. “We have already spoken with your employer about the situation, and they have agreed to give you a leave of extended absence while this crisis is resolved. We will even pay you your salary for the time you are here.”

“What?” Ichigo asked, shocked that they’d gone to that extreme.

“You will stay here, Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya said. His tone of voice suggested that this was final, beyond decision. “There is nothing else to be done for it.”

“Like hell there is!”

Byakuya stared at him for a moment, unaffected by his anger. “Let me speak to you in plainer terms,” he said quietly. “If you decide to step out of this facility and return to your normal life, I cannot technically stop you. But your family will be in danger. _You_ will be in danger. They will be hurt again, and so will you. There is a good chance the lot of you will _die_. This company, the Soul Society, will not protect people who refuse its help.

“Should you decide to stay, I will make sure that you are comfortable and safe,” he continued. “You may train with any of the members of the Soul Society, and any of your outside friends may come here, so long as you follow the necessary security protocol. As I have already mentioned, we have made many arrangements to accommodate you as best as possible. But if you step outside this building, continuing to scorn us, you may consider yourself a dead man.” He sniffed rather distastefully. “I do not look forward to consoling Rukia after her friend’s needless death.”

Ichigo flushed. Well, when you put it _that_ way…

“So do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Ichigo muttered. He cleared his throat. “I’ll stay.”

Byakuya nodded once. “Good,” he replied. “I sent for one of the members to escort you to the barracks and give you a tour of the facility. He should be waiting outside now.”

“Gee, thanks for going to such _trouble_ ,” Ichigo said, his smile dripping with fake sweetness.

“You should not smile like that, Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya said, already having returned to his computer screen. “I would certainly not want your face to get stuck that way. It would frighten children.”

“Wha-?” Ichigo spluttered indignantly. He scowled and turned around. What an ass! He’d been mad at Rukia for not introducing them before, but he was a little grateful that she hadn’t now. The guy was a _jerk_ – was he this cold to Rukia? Jesus!

He practically slammed the door to the office behind him, and almost ran into the person standing right outside the door.

“Watch it!” he snapped, pushing out unconsciously.

A strong hand grabbed his arm, not affected by his shove at all. “ _You_ watch it!”

Ichigo looked up, and scowled. Someone in heaven must’ve really hated him. Really fucking hated him. Of all the god-forsaken people in this damn building…

It _would_ be Renji staring down at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Or perhaps glared was a more appropriate word.

Ichigo couldn’t believe his luck; this seriously had to be one of the unluckiest days of his existence thus far. First, he’d gotten into a pretty big fight with one of his best friends, and then his house had gotten fucking _bombed_ and he’d almost been choked to death, and now he couldn’t leave this facility! That wasn’t even mentioning the strong dislike he was beginning to feel for the redhead standing before him.

“You wanna continue to stand here awkwardly, or can I give you the goddamn tour already?” Renji finally grunted out.

Ichigo blinked once, and then nodded. He fell in step beside the taller man as he led them out of the waiting room and down a hallway.

“There’s five levels,” Renji continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Ichigo noticed that he’d changed into a simple pair of athletic pants and a t-shirt. Was he off-duty now? Did these people even go off-duty?

“This is the first floor.” They turned into another hallway, and ran straight into a set of elevators. Renji pushed the down button on one and stepped back to wait. “Two more are above us, the other two are below. With me so far?”

“I dunno, five floors is a _really_ tough concept to grasp,” Ichigo said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Renji snorted. “Wouldn’t put it past your brain capacity, kid,” he scoffed. Before Ichigo could protest, one of the elevators opened. Renji walked inside, and Ichigo was forced to follow or be left behind. “The top two floors are for administrators. No need to go up there unless you’re called. And if you _are_ called up there, you’re in some deep shit.”

The redhead pushed the button for the lowest level, marked B1, and the doors closed on them. “The lower two floors are where you’ll be stayin’,” Renji continued. “Barracks are on B1. Everything else - the gym, mess hall, armory, quartermaster - are all on B2.”

“ _Quartermaster?_ ” Ichigo repeated. “What is this, the fucking middle ages?”

“Shut up,” Renji snapped. “Got a better name for the guy who gives you clothes and gear?” Ichigo shrugged. “Didn’t think so. B2 also holds the training facilities for members of the Soul Society. Don’t go in there unless you want your ass handed to you in a fight.” He smirked at Ichigo.

“I can hold my own just fine,” Ichigo retorted.

“Sure,” Renji allowed. “That’s why ya almost asphyxiated back there.”

“That wasn’t a fair fight!” Ichigo said hotly. “It was two on one, and they had gear on and everything! I wasn’t even wearing shoes!”

“Shoes? Would that have made a fucking difference?”

“You never know!”

The elevator doors dinged open just then, likely preventing a full-blown argument from breaking out. Renji stepped out into a brightly lit hallway; Ichigo followed him, a sour expression on his face.

“Right then,” Renji said. He pointed to the right. “Girls’ rooms are thataway. Don’t go there unless you have to see one of ‘em, or you’re invited.” He chuckled. “Go in uninvited, and your balls will never forgive you.” He pointed left. “Guys’ rooms are this way. Normally, we each have roommates; you share a common living area and each have a separate bedroom and bathroom.”

“Normally?” Ichigo repeated warily. Was he gonna have to live with some random dude? That didn’t really sound like much fun, considering the people he’d already met.

“Yeah, _normally_ ,” Renji replied. He set off down the left hallway. “Don’t worry – you don’t gotta room with anyone. Kuchiki made sure you had a private room.”

Ichigo couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“I know you’re devastated you can’t room with an awesome guy like me, but hey, at least you don’t gotta share a toilet with somebody.”

“Why the hell would I want to share rooms with you?” Ichigo demanded. “You’ve been nothing but an ass to me!”

Renji shrugged. “Just something I heard,” he said nonchalantly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Renji said, waving a hand dismissively. He stopped outside a door. A plate at the side read 110. Beneath it were two names – Abarai Renji and Hisagi Shuhei. “This here’s mine and Hisagi’s rooms. Across the way is Ikkaku and Yumichika.” Ichigo looked where Renji pointed and saw a similar nameplate across the hall, only the number was 111.

“Why are you showing me your room?” Ichigo asked.

“Kuchiki made it my job to help you out,” Renji replied. “So if you got any questions or need help, you know where to go.”

“Whatever,” Ichigo said after a moment’s consideration. He supposed he should be grateful that he had someone basically on call for him, ready to answer his questions and show him where to go. But why did have to be _this_ guy? Rukia’s brother hardly could have known that they already didn’t get along, but still.

“C’mon.” Renji set off down the hall again. They passed a few more doors, with nameplates that Ichigo didn’t recognize. They stopped outside a door labeled 119. Instead of a nameplate, a piece of paper had been taped under the number. It read “Kurosaki Ichigo”.

“Here’s your rooms,” Renji remarked, handing him a key.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Ichigo muttered. He took the key and unlocked the door. It opened to a spacious living area, complete with a small kitchenette. The furniture was modern and looked comfortable, and the appliances were top notch. Two doors led off to what he assumed were the bedrooms.

He let his duffel bag slide off his shoulder at the entryway.

“You want the rest of the tour now?” Renji asked.

Ichigo turned. He’d forgotten about the tour. To be honest, he didn’t really want to see anything else though. Despite the numerous floors, it didn’t seem like a complex layout. This wasn’t a labyrinth of interconnecting hallways and rooms; it was just an old, renovated warehouse.

It wasn’t even that he didn’t want to be around Renji. Sure, the redhead was annoying, and a bit rude, but that wasn’t something Ichigo hadn’t dealt with before. Keigo was every bit as annoying – probably more so – and Ichigo had hung out with him on a regular basis in high school. He liked to think his tolerance was pretty high, even if he bitched about it a lot.

He was just so tired. He doubted that it was even nine o’clock, but he felt as if he’d been awake for days. A lot had happened today, and a ton of information had been thrown at him at all once. He truly just wanted to lie down and sleep until morning. Not to mention his rib ached from where it had cracked. He’d spent altogether too much time walking around without resting.

“Oi.”

Ichigo looked up. Renji was looking at him with an expression that bordered on sympathy.

“We can take the tour whenever,” the redhead continued. “Ya look pretty beat up… why don’t you just sleep or something?”

Ichigo hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then gave in to what he wanted. “Sure, yeah,” he said.

“Just come and find me when you wanna see the rest of the building.” Renji nodded at him once and then took off back down the hallway.

Ichigo closed the door and walked a little farther into the room. He was honestly surprised that the room was so big; when Rukia’s brother had called these lodgings “barracks” he’d been expecting something a little sparser. The room looked more like something out of a fancy hotel in his opinion.

He chose the bedroom on the right. It was simple – just a double bed, a chest of drawers, and a couple of nightstands. There was a lamp and an alarm clock on one of them, a stack of generic magazines on the other. Another door opposite the bed led to what he assumed was the bathroom. He walked out to it to figure out if he was right.

He was.

It was a simple bathroom, just a shower stall, toilet, and sink. Someone had put a small box of sundries on top of the toilet for him.

He snorted. It really was like a hotel.

He re-entered the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. With a curse, he rolled over onto his back immediately; he’d forgotten his rib. What a terrible bone to break – it couldn’t be set, and because it was in the trunk of his body, he couldn’t really move without it moving as well. Couldn’t the guy have kicked his wrist or something? He could deal with a broken wrist.

His eyes slipped shut of his own accord. The bed was terribly comfortable; it had to have been one of those memory foam mattresses, for he sank in several inches and didn’t move at all. It was like lying down on a cloud, though he expected it wasn’t as wet. Or as cold.

In mere moments, he was asleep.

*

“So what’s his story?”

Rukia blinked and looked up at Renji from her dinner. He was fiddling with his noodles absently, using the chopsticks to pick them up and then drop them back onto his plate.

“What do you mean?” she asked, taking a bite of her own food.

Renji snorted. “Kid’s got a major chip on his shoulder,” he replied. “Keeps tryin’ to act tough even though it was frickin’ obvious he was exhausted.” He paused. “Does he do that often?”

Rukia smiled. “All the time,” she said softly.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Renji pointed out flatly.

“Well, you have to understand,” Rukia replied quickly, setting down her the carton in his hand. “Ichigo… his family life wasn’t easy. It certainly wasn’t as hard a life as what _we_ experienced, but he had his own problems. He's always acted tough - it's an exterior he puts on because he feels like he has to be strong.”

“What kinda problems we talkin' about here?”

“Well, his mother died when he was very young. She had taken him out to get ice cream one day, and they were crossing the street when a car came out of nowhere. She pushed him out of the way to save his life, but in the process, she put herself in the way of the car. She died a few hours later in the hospital.

“Ichigo told me that for a long time, he had blamed himself. To make up for not being able to save her life, he tried to make himself as strong as possible. He took karate, judo… any martial arts classes he could. He took more interest in school, insistent upon getting into a good high school, and then college. He told me that he did virtually nothing in high school except study. I don’t think he ever even had a girlfriend.

“But I think the major part of it was being there for his sisters. Their dad is a doctor, and he runs his own clinic, so he doesn’t always have a lot of free time. There’s enough of an age gap between them that Ichigo essentially became their surrogate parent. He’s fiercely protective of them because he feels that if he doesn’t, who will?” She smiled. “The only time you will ever see Ichigo go out of his way to be nice is to his sisters.”

Renji took in what she said, mulling it over. Finally he nodded, as if in understanding. “Never had a girlfriend,” he commented. “Huh.”

Rukia scowled. “Really?” she demanded. “ _That’s_ what you take out of my story?”

“Betcha he’s a virgin too,” Renji ignored her questioning, and smiled in a way that Rukia could only describe as predatory.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Rukia asked. “And how would I know whether or not he’s a virgin?” She huffed and picked up her food, stabbing the noodles angrily with her chopsticks.

“You don’t know?”

“Of course not!” she snapped. “I don’t just ask people if they’re virgins or not, Renji!”

“Well, how the fuck else would you find out?” he demanded. “So you mean… you and he never…”

“Ew, no,” Rukia said, grimacing. “I can’t date Ichigo. That would be like dating you, and we both saw how _wonderfully_ that turned out.”

“Not my fault you can’t handle all of this,” Renji said, motioning to himself as he sat back on the couch.

She snorted. “Yes,” she said, “That’s why we didn’t work out.”

There was silence for a moment. Renji was staring off into space, clearly thinking about something. Rukia could see the wheels turning behind his wine colored eyes; she wondered absently what he was thinking about.

“So can I have him, then?”

Rukia nearly choked. She coughed a bit, turning a violent shade of red. “Excuse me?!” she choked out.

“Well, if you don’t want him,” Renji shrugged. “Besides, you have eyes. He’s _hot_.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?” she demanded.

Renji stared at her for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Gotcha!” he crowed, pointing at her stricken face. Realizing she’d been had, Rukia scowled at her friend, throwing her chopsticks at him. He easily swatted them out of the way, still laughing. “Geez, Rukia, you think I’d go after him? Just like that? I just fuckin' met him!” He laughed again. "I ain't a fuckin' predator!"

“Who knows with you!” she snapped.

His laughter died out and he leaned forward to pick his food up again. “I ain’t gonna go after him,” he said. “We gotta a job to do, and I’m not gonna be the one to screw up and let personal feelings get involved.”

“Good,” Rukia said, clearing her throat.

“He is hot, though.”

“Renji!”

*

Ichigo didn’t awake until morning.

He turned his head and blearily looked at the clock on the bedside table. He was surprised to see that it read eleven-thirty. He hadn’t slept so late since he’d been in high school. Once he’d gotten used to getting up at seven-thirty for his classes, and then later, his job, he’d found that he awoke at that time every day regardless of the day's activities.

Without thinking about it, he stretched his arms out over his head. He winced when it pulled at his rib. Damn. 

He sat up, irritated now, swinging his legs down to the floor before getting up and padding into the living room. To his surprise, Rukia was sitting on the couch, playing with her cell phone.

Honestly, did these people not know how to _knock?_

“Morning,” he grunted, heading over to sit beside her.

She put her phone down and beamed up at him. “Good morning!” she replied. “Though to be honest, it’s almost noon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shrugged off the implicit question in her words.

“Did Renji show you around last night?”

“He showed me how to get here,” Ichigo replied.

“But nothing else?”

“Nah. Honestly, I was really freakin’ tired, so I took a rain check.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rukia said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s really not terribly difficult. Everything’s labeled.”

He nodded, and got up and walked to the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat here?”

“Should be,” Rukia said. He opened a cabinet and found several boxes of easy access food, the kind of stuff you ate in college in your dorm room after gagging at the cafeteria’s options – granola bars, cereal, instant meals. He grabbed a box of cereal and headed back over to the couch, popping it open as he walked.

“So… care to tell me what you’re doing here?”

Rukia looked offended. “What, I’m not allowed to visit my friends?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I feel so loved… ”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he snapped, taking a handful of cereal and bringing it to his mouth.

“Well, I figured I would give you some warnings about the B-Team, since they’re the ones who’ve been ordered to protect you and your family,” she said. “You know – the low down.”

“I need the _low down_?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said, completely serious. He sighed and took a seat across from her, all ears. “First, there’s Ikkaku – you met him, right?” Rukia nodded. “He’s always in the mood for a fight, so give him a reason, and he’ll snap on you. Oh, and don’t call him bald. He’s really sensitive about it.”

Ichigo snorted. “Okay,” he said. “Continue.”

“He’s dating Ayesegawa Yumichika.”

“That the fruity guy with the fake eyelashes?”

Rukia snorted. “Yes,” she replied, “But I wouldn’t call him fruity anywhere he – or Ikkaku – can hear you. He’s… into beautiful things. Other than that, he’s a pretty nice guy, though he’s really sarcastic. So don’t take everything that he says at face value. He’s not really a mean person.”

“Next.”

“Kira Izuru is really quiet,” Rukia said. “In fact… some times, people forget he’s even there. It’s kinda sad.” She paused for a moment. “He was in an abusive relationship before, so he’s a bit skittish and doesn’t open up to people very well. So don’t be mean to him!”

“Wut tha fuch, Rukia?!” Ichigo demanded through his cereal. “Why would I be mean to him? I don’t even know him!”

Rukia completely ignored him. “Hisagi Shuhei’s a pretty cool guy,” she said. “You’ll probably like him. He gets along with almost everyone. He actually doesn’t like fighting, though he will if you push him into it.”

“What’s the 69 on his face mean?” Ichigo asked.

“I don’t know,” Rukia said, flushing for whatever reason. “I guess it means… what you think it means.”

“Huh,” Ichigo commented. “Weird thing to tattoo on your face.”

“I’ve seen weirder.”

“Yeah, but most weird tattoos aren’t your favorite sex position,” he said dryly.

“True,” Rukia allowed. “Ok, going on. Matsumoto Rangiku – she’s the blonde you met. She’s a really big flirt, and she likes to drink. She’s that way with everyone, including girls, so don’t take it personally. It’s just how she is. She’s also very open, so she’ll probably tell you things you don’t want to know. Oh, and she’s not very modest, if that sort of thing bothers you.”

“You don’t say,” Ichigo muttered, remembering her poorly tailored outfit from earlier.

“You can ignore her if you like,” Rukia said. “That’s the easiest way to get her to stop. She’ll get bored and move on to someone else.”

“How do you ignore someone like that?!”

“The same way you ignore anyone else! Look the other way and hum; I don't know!” Rukia snapped back at him. She let out a deep breath. “Now, that leaves Renji.”

“What about him?” Ichigo asked.

“He’s… ” she trailed off, her brow furrowing.

“An ass?” Ichigo supplied.

“No!” She scowled at him. “Renji likes you. He won’t come out and say it, but I think you remind him of himself. I mean, you two are a lot alike.”

“We are not!”

“You are too! You don’t know him that well, but I do! You two are almost frighteningly similar – the way you act, your ideals, your temperament… maybe that’s why I befriended you so easily in college. You reminded me of him… ”

“Is there a point to all this?” Ichigo demanded. “Because I’d really like to take a shower some time in the near future.”

“My point is that you can trust Renji,” Rukia said. “He’s a good guy – the best I know. He’s stubborn and argumentative, but he’s also loyal and fiercely protective of people he cares about. He’s the best friend anyone could ask for.”

“I really feel the love now,” Ichigo snapped.

“I’m serious, Ichigo,” Rukia said. “If you need someone to talk to, someone other than me… go to Renji. He’ll help you out, even if he gripes about it.”

Ichigo stared at her, considering her words. Her face was serious, no hint of a smile or a joke on her lips. From what she’d said about her background with Renji, she knew him pretty well, and had known him almost her entire life. He supposed that if anyone was a good judge of his character, it was Rukia.

He was still an asshole, of course. There was no denying that.

But perhaps he could give the other guy a chance.

For now, at least.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was amazing, really, how showers could change your entire attitude. Having a bad day? Take a long shower. Have a tough workout? Take a hot shower. Overly aroused at an inopportune moment? Take a cold shower and shock your system into submission.

Ichigo stepped out into the hallway feeling like a new man.

He wasn't sure what to do; normally, he'd be in the gym, walking a client through a workout. Today was Thursday. That meant he'd probably have been working out with Chad right now. Of course, Chad didn't really need a personal trainer. But he liked working out with Ichigo, and considering that he was a cop on the graveyard shift, that didn't leave a lot of time to be spent hanging out.

Ichigo began to absently wander down the hallway. He wondered how Chad would react when he wasn't at the gym today. The guy would probably go through his routine, as per the usual. He'd probably call later, wanting to know what was up.

What excuse was his work giving out to his clients? Rukia's brother had mentioned that everything had been taken care of… but what precisely did that mean?

Before he knew it, he was facing a set of stairs that led down. Ichigo blinked; how long had he been walking?

He seemed to recall that there was more to do on the second basement floor, so he shrugged and took the stairs. They led to another, wider hallway that eventually opened into a central area with chairs, vending machines, and a few computer desks. A couple people were here; they looked up curiously as he entered the main area, but didn't say anything to him.

Ichigo noticed that there were several doors leading away from this area. One of them had "GYM" emblazoned on it in bold, black letters. He looked down at his clothes – they were comfortable, and not fancy. Not his standard work out gear, but they would do just fine. With a shrug, he headed towards the door.

There were only a few people inside, minding their own business. None of them looked his way when the door swung open.

He had to admit – this was a  _nice_  gym. The equipment was state of the art, and there was much more variety than at his own gym despite the smaller space. It looked to be divided into four main sections – free weights, cardio equipment, weight machines, and an area at the very back for sparring.

He made his way over to the free weights section, removing his shirt and throwing it against a wall. There was a mat by the weight racks that he pulled out into the center of the area. Getting down on his hands and knees, he got into proper form and began doing a set of push-ups to warm up his muscles.

As he worked, he felt the sweat began to bead on his skin. His face flushed from the increased body temperature, and his lungs began to work harder. He kept the pace slow, and didn't move too much to avoid agitating his ribs. Finished with the push-ups, he rolled onto his back and starting doing sit-ups.

He forced himself to complete the exercises, even though the motion made his side burn. He couldn't do a lot of his normal exercises, and it was frustrating. But he knew which could be properly modified. He didn't have a degree in kinesiology for nothing.

Standing up, he wiped his hands clean and moved over to a pull-up bar on the wall. He hopped up, grabbing the bar with ease, and situated himself before starting his rep's, choosing to go with a close grip for added difficulty.

"Guess you didn't need that tour after all."

Ichigo nearly slipped off the bars as he whipped his head around to address the speaker. Shit! He'd been so in the zone that he hadn't even noticed the other person approach him. He scowled when he saw Renji standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

"What the hell?" Ichigo snapped. "Why'd you try and sneak up on me like that? What's wrong with you?!"

Renji snorted. "What, did I scare you?" He barked out a laugh. "Just happened to see you over here, that's all. Don't flatter yourself."

Ichigo let go of the bar at the same time that he pushed out, landing nicely beside the redhead. "Then fucking say hello," he replied, scowling. "That's what normal people do."

Renji chose to ignore his comment. "That rib not bothering you too much then?"

"Not too much," Ichigo said darkly. "I don't think it's fully broken so much as fractured. As long as I don't hit it on something, it should be fine."

"Wanna spar then? Promise I won't hit your ribcage."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. Spar? He hadn't sparred with anyone challenging in a long time. He had taken martial arts since he was very small, before he'd even been able to develop much in the way of muscle mass. He wasn't arrogant, but he knew his own strength – and he was  _good_. You didn't practice every day for years on end without obtaining a certain level of prowess. Normal partners just weren't challenging enough anymore.

Chad refused to spar on principle; he didn't like hitting people, and though he was as strong as an ox, he only used his power defensively. None of his other friends even attempted to fight him.

There had been one guy, who'd come to the gym regularly for a few months. But he had long since moved out of town. He'd been sad to realize it – the guy had been of a similar build to Ichigo, though a bit taller, and had been the first guy he'd been able to go all-out against without fear of seriously injuring his opponent.

Renji though…

He was taller than Ichigo by more than a couple inches, and his wingspan was a bit longer too. His shoulders were broader, and he had a bit more muscle mass, more bulk than the lean physique Ichigo had cultivated over the years.

But he was willing to bet that he was quicker.

People often underestimated him because he wasn't very big or very bulky. He used that to his advantage when he could; his lean muscle allowed him to move faster than larger opponents without sacrificing too much raw strength. Slower, more isometric martial art forms had also given him more flexibility than many guys had. Combined, his prowess allowed him to get in and out, hit you before you knew what had hit you.

Let them do their bench presses at five hundred pounds. Let them do six hundred pound squats. He'd take whooping their asses in a fight any day.

"You're on," he said, grinning.

They headed over to the mats at the back of the room. Renji tore his shirt off, now barechested as Ichigo.

"Like ink much?" Ichigo asked, noticing the jagged black tattoos that ran all down Renji's chest, sides, and back.

"Just a tad," Renji replied, smirking. He swung his arms around a bit, stretching out the limbs. "Didn't much like the skin I had. So I changed it."

"Why not?" Ichigo asked, frowning. He began to stretch himself out too, though his motions were smaller than Renji's. His muscles were already filled with blood from his previous exercises.

Renji snorted. "That's a long story," he said flatly. "Besides." Having finished stretching, he settled himself into a crouched, ready position. "Now ain't the time for talkin'."

Ichigo followed suit, settling down into a fighter's position. He kept himself light on his feet, perfectly balanced and always poised to move into another stance. It was natural to him, second nature. When he'd first been learning to fight, it had been incredibly taxing to have to memorize all the stances and positions. He'd thought too much a lot; on several times, it had gotten him defeated. His friend Tatsuki had given him more than one of those beatings, and she still never let him forget it.

But he'd learned, and eventually the moves had turned instinctual. He didn't have to think or contemplate each move before he made it. Battles became a simple continuum of action and reaction, give and take, push and pull.

Renji struck forward, testing his defenses. Ichigo knew them for feints, and danced out of the way easily. He watched Renji's body, looking for key signs of movement – muscles tensing, eyes roving, foot position. Normally, he'd have jumped right in and started attacking; that was more his style. But he was curious as to what kind of skills a member of the B-Team really possessed.

The second time Renji came forward, it wasn't a feint. He punched out hard. Ichigo blocked it easily, as well as the follow-up punch, pushing the other man away with his forearm.

They circled each other warily. Ichigo noticed that Renji was watching him carefully too, looking for the same tell-tale signs of an attack.

"Why aren't you movin'?" Renji demanded, frowning. "We're sparrin', not dancin'!"

Ichigo's grin deepened. "Fighting  _is_  dancing, you idiot," he said. Quick as lightning, he dashed in, landing a solid hit to the other man's abdomen. Before Renji could do anything to retaliate, he leaped back, hands up to defend his face. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

Renji scowled at him. He swung a heavy punch to Ichigo's left, which was easily blocked. But the redhead was expecting that, and countered with a hit from his right arm at Ichigo's shoulder.

For the next few minutes, they fought back and forth, trading punches and kicks. Renji wasn't so slow himself, Ichigo noted with surprise. He moved easily despite his size, and countered most of Ichigo's lightning fast attacks. But he missed a few – and Ichigo made sure that those hurt.

Suddenly, Renji slammed a fist into Ichigo's right side.

Ichigo grunted at the impact, letting the momentum turn his body towards Renji's. He shoved the redhead back, and then immediately attacked again, kicking out hard.

His foot hit flesh, but Renji stood his ground. He grabbed Ichigo's foot and twisted it, yanking the smaller man to the ground.

Ichigo certainly wasn't expecting the move, but he didn't panic. Scowling up at the redhead – what a cheap move! – he kicked out at the back of Renji's knee.

The other man tumbled down to the floor, and their sparring session turned into something more akin to wrestling. Here Renji had the obvious advantage. Ichigo did his best to fend the other man's grappling off, but he was clearly outsized and outmatched here.

"What the hell?" he demanded angrily, trying to get Renji's arms away from him. "This isn't sparring, dumbass!"

Renji surprised him with a mounting maneuver that left Ichigo breathless, pinned against the floor. Renji had his lower body pinned down too, sitting on him. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face and hair coming free of his ponytail. "So?" he asked, voice flat.

"So?!" Ichigo replied. "You're cheating!"

"Winnin' ain't cheating," Renji countered. "And an enemy ain't gonna play by the rules if it's your life or theirs."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the freaking enemy!" Ichigo snapped. He stared up at the other man, whose only response was an infuriating smirk.

"There's always an enemy in a fight," Renji said easily. "Speakin' of fights… you just lost."

"No," Ichigo said stubbornly. "I was sparring – you broke the fucking rules and kicked me to the ground! I don't wrestle – and my fucking rib's cracked! What the hell? What if it had snapped or something?"

"Did it?" Renji asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Ichigo said after a moment's thought.

"Then no big deal," Renji shrugged, sitting back and letting Ichigo up.

Infuriated by the redhead's lackadaisical attitude, Ichigo lashed out, landing a punch on Renji's cheek.

"Why you-!" Renji grabbed at him angrily, and their wrestling resumed. This wasn't even close to what they'd been doing early – it was all hands and feet and hair pulling and… was that a bite?

Ichigo jerked back, a hand on his neck. That had been a bite! He could feel the ragged edges of where the teeth had broken his skin. His hand came back sticky with blood. "You bit me!" he accused. "Fucking jerk!"

"Bitch," Renji spat out, spitting blood out of his mouth in distaste. "You sucker punched me!"

"Who the hell fucking bites people?" Ichigo demanded. "That's  _disgusting!_  What if it gets infected?!"

"Shaddap," Renji snapped. "Go see the fuckin' medic, you pussy! It's just a bite! Ain't you ever gotten any love bites before?" His cheek was bruising angrily from where he'd been hit, but that was nothing compared to the fire in his eyes.

Ichigo stood up, his body aching from their fighting. He angrily stalked over to where he'd thrown his shirt, grabbing it off the ground. He didn't want to put it on – it would just bleed on the fabric, and blood was a bitch to get out once it dried. To the medic then.

Only then did it dawn on him that he didn't know where that was.

"Where do I go?" he asked, turning around. He didn't want to ask the redhead for help… but there was no one else in here at the moment. Ichigo guessed everyone had left while they had been sparring.

Renji scowled at him. "What?"

"The medic!" Ichigo snapped. "Where do I fucking go?"

Renji's expression didn't change as he pulled his shirt on over his head. "Come on," he said sourly. "It's on the way to the mess."

* * *

An hour later, and the two of them had been sufficiently patched up by the infirmary staff. Renji hadn't needed their assistance, but the head doctor, Unohana Retsu, had insisted. And while she looked maternal, Unohana wasn't someone that you just ignored.

Ichigo had given him some crappy excuse about going to talk to his family before leaving, clearly sulking. Renji couldn't help but smirk at that. Guess the kid didn't like losing.

Not that he blamed Ichigo. Renji hated to lose too, and he did everything he could to prevent it from happening. In that regard at least, they were alike.

He looked down at the plate in front of him, shoveling another spoonful of rice into his mouth. To tell the truth, Ichigo wasn't bad at fighting at all. In fact, had they continued to spar, the kid probably would've won. Renji had never seen someone move so fast. Except maybe Bruce Lee. But hell, he didn't count.

The only reason he'd made them move to wrestling at all had been because Renji could see that he was going to be beaten. It wasn't precisely fair, but it wasn't cheating either. He hadn't specified "martial arts" sparring, but honor was more or less implied. And in a true fighting situation, you did what it took to win.

Or at least, that was how he was justifying it.

"Nice shiner."

He looked up just in time to see Shuuhei drop into the seat across from him. He grunted in response.

"So what happened? You call Ikkaku bald again?"

Renji snorted. "Not hardly," he replied.

"… then what?" the other man prompted him.

"The kid was working out in the gym," Renji said finally. "I challenged him to spar."

Shuuhei laughed. "And you got your ass handed to you?"

"No!" Renji snapped. "I beat him! He just fuckin' sucker punched me!" He stabbed at a piece of fish with his chopsticks. "Stupid brat…"

"Did you deserve it?" Shuuhei asked, taking a bite of his sushi roll.

"Doesn't matter," Renji said, shaking his head. "Ya don't do that to people!"

"I seem to have overheard that you bit someone today." Renji looked up to see Yumichika slide into the seat next to Shuuhei, a smirk on his vain face. "Pardon me, but isn't  _that_  something that you also shouldn't do to people?"

"That was after he suckered me," Renji said defensively. "Turnabout's fair play!"

"Really though, Renji, biting people?" Yumichika shook his head. "That's so barbaric."

"Wasn't exactly raised to fight nice and pretty," he pointed out.

Shuuhei looked at him speculatively. "So Kurosaki knows how to fight pretty well, does he?" he asked. "He doesn't look like much, but then again, he  _is_ a personal trainer…"

"He's good," Renji remarked honestly. He ate a few mouthfuls of rice before continuing. "And he's fast. Wicked fast."

"Do you think that's why he's being targeted?" Yumichika interjected, delicately lifting a piece of sashimi to his mouth. He finished the whole bite before adding a follow-up statement. "I mean, other than the obvious reason."

"I doubt it," Shuuhei said. "Aizen doesn't know that Ichigo's that good at fighting, and even if he did… it doesn't matter. He's got fighters just as good as we are. And he hates the family. He'd never try to recruit him." He shook his head. "No… he attacked them to get to Isshin."

"Wonder why," Renji said. "Guy doesn't seem the type."

Yumichika sighed. "They never do."

Renji finished his meal in the silence that followed. It wasn't a subject that he liked to talk about. He considered himself an honest person – he didn't beat around the bush or sugarcoat things. Tough love, baby. But he had been strictly forbidden to tell Ichigo the reason Aizen and the Arrancar were after the Kurosaki's. It was classified information, and it was Renji's butt on the line if he told.

But it made him uncomfortable. Sure, it was a lie of omission and not a direct lie, but that didn't make it any less of an untruth.

"You seem to be running into Ichigo a lot," Shuuhei observed.

Renji looked up, drawn out of his brooding. "What?" he repeated stupidly.

Shuuhei smirked. "First, you offer – no,  _demand_ – to be the one to give him a tour of the place," he continued. "Then you just so happen to meet him in the training room." He raised an eyebrow. "And then close quarters combat?"

Renji scowled, immediately catching his roommate's drift. "What the fuck?" he demanded. "Why does everything think I'm gonna jump his bones?!"

"Well, he is your type, Renji…"

"Shut up!" Renji directed at Yumichika. "You aren't helpin'!"

"I'm just pointing out the coincidences," Shuuhei said, throwing up his hands defensively.

"I feel obligated to keep him safe," Renji snapped. "He's Rukia's friend… a close friend. I promised her I'd watch out for him."

"Not that you mind," Yumichika assessed, grinning devilishly.

"Fuck you," Renji snapped, standing up and grabbing his lunch tray. "Both of you." Ignoring his friends' snickering, he walked over to the dish return and put the plate on the conveyor belt.

After all… it really had been just coincidence.

* * *

"Isshin… I must insist. The situation is much more serious than we had previously estimated."

Isshin Kurosaki smiled weakly, though Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't see that from the other end of the phone call. "With all due respect, Kuchiki, I have to decline," he replied.

"The gravity of the situation-"

"I understand the situation," Isshin interrupted. "I understand perfectly. I'm not an idiot, whatever my son may have told you."

"I never said otherwise," Byakuya said stiffly. "However, the powers that be do not believe it is safe for you in Karakura anymore. And I must stand by their decision."

"And, no offense meant, when I left, it was because I was more than happy to throw off the ball and chain of the Soul Society," Isshin reminded his one-time associate. "I have to decline, Byakuya. I don't want you guys getting involved in my kids' lives any more than necessary."

"Do you want Ichigo back with you?"

"No," Isshin shook his head. "He's too headstrong. He'll… he's better protected with you. I can't keep him from going off and getting himself into trouble. You can. You have a lot more manpower than me."

"Agreed."

"But Yuzu and Karin… I can handle them," Isshin continued. "And I believe I know the best ways to keep them protected."

"As you insist," Byakuya said quietly. "Should you change your mind, however…"

"You'll be the first to know," Isshin said finally, hanging up the phone with a sigh. He stared out the living room window, brooding. What to do, what to do… he knew that staying in Karakura wasn't safe. And he had places he could go. His years of service had brought him friends in many places, friends who would be more than willing to help out in a time of need.

But how did he explain this to Ichigo?

How did he keep the girls in the dark?

How did he protect all of his children from the evil threatening them?

"Oh, Masaki," he sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "If only you were here… you always knew how to listen, and how to respond…" Wearily, he turned to climb the stairs to his bedroom.

He didn't notice the dark shadow that had been listening in from around the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to put that reference to Muhammad Ali in there :) He's from my city... and he's basically local saint, haha. There's a big festival going on this weekend celebrating his victory over George Foreman. It's huge. Had him on my mind all week because of all the commercials and flyers, lol. So he worked his way in here.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random idea I had. This seems to a category I really like writing - humor/action/romance - so I'm not gonna fight it. And Renji/Ichigo needs love. It really does. Comments are, as always, much loved and appreciated!


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